The Forbidden Love: A Dramione Fanfic
by smexyme143
Summary: Hermione and Draco, a young witch and wizard, a mudblood and pureblood, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. They were at opposite ends of the spectrum, and were bound to fall in love. But what happens, when that love isn't allowed by societal standards? Hiding, lies, scandal, fights, and love. Dramione
1. Chapter 1

The Forbidden Love

A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter 1:

The light filtered through the pink curtains making the room seem like a little girl's mirage. The tea set still left from 5 years ago was collecting dust. The blankets on the bed untouched for about a year, and the pillows unmoved. The rest of the house was quiet, but clean. The home was less than modestly covered with photographs of a young girl progressing with age. Some of them featured her wearing what one may see as a witch costume. Some were at a train station in which she waved goodbye with her trunk in hand and her cat next to her. She had to have been an only child, as she was the only one who was in any of the frames. On top of the mantle of the fire place was a family photo. Her parents were middle aged with few wrinkles. She was the perfect mix of them both.

The front door opened and let in a warm sense of welcoming love. The middle aged man in the picture brought in a trunk, similar to the ones in the various photographs throughout the halls. He pressed a button on his keys and the car beeped from outside. Soon, the woman from the picture walked in, guiding the girl through the doorway. The girl was taller, her face was beginning to grow into the intelligent mind she had. Her hair cascaded in tight waves and bounced with every step. She smiled at the sight of the house.

"Home," she said with a tired sigh.

"I'm going to put your trunk in your room, okay sweetheart?" her dad called to her as he was taking the trunk towards the back of the house. She nodded slightly and picked up her orange cat.

"Are you hungry Crookshanks? Let's get you some food," she spoke to her cat in a high pitched voice.

Her mother had already gone into the kitchen to start on dinner. The wavy haired girl walked into the kitchen for cat food and realized she didn't know where it was anymore.

"Mum, where's the food for Crookshanks?"

"What, Hermione?" her mom said louder beyond the sizzling of vegetables in the pan.

"The cat food," Hermione moved closer to her mom and asked again where it was.

"In the pantry, to the left of the cereals."

As Crookshanks leaped out of her arms to eat, she stared into the pantry. The food at her school was much different than the food from home. At home, there were popular name food brands, apple juice, and her favorite quick meals to microwave. At school, there were foods that she had never heard of, pumpkin juice, and she could only get food at the meal times specified. To the unknowing eye, her school seemed like a prison: only certain people could go in or out, you had to stay in a certain area of the building, you couldn't be out after curfew, you had to participate in learning, etc. To Hermione though, it was everything she could have ever asked for.

In her room, she began to unpack her trunk. Folded and pressed outfits that all looked similar, textbooks, and something in a special case. She opened the case and revealed her wand. The pure joy on her face could only be seen on someone who had this special privilege. Not every muggle-born had magic in them. They couldn't go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They couldn't cast spells or charms. She had something that they all didn't have: hope.

"Hermione! Dinner time!"

"Coming," she replied as she took in all of the smells of her home. The food, the air freshener her mom used, the laundry detergent used on her blankets, and even the dust that had collected over the years. With a small smile to herself, she walked towards the dining room and sat with her family to eat their first dinner in a whole year.

There was always her second family though; the friends she had made at Hogwarts had become like her brothers. But, nothing beat her real family. The one she's known the longest. Her parents loved her more than anything, and even though she was an only child, she never felt lonely.

The clanking of silverware on the china echoed through the manor. There was a sense of nothingness, even though there were three bodies quietly eating below. The room felt cold, seeming to block any heat by shooting it with the frost of the marble floors and pillars. It was dark for the most part, except for bits of light that snaked their way through the vines that grew over the tall windows. A man with long, sleek, blonde hair cleared his thought.

"So, Draco," he hesitated and quickly glanced at his wife who gave a slight nod of encouragement, "How was the trip home?"

Draco, a young teenager with blonde hair similar to his father's, looked up and quickly looked back down.

"Fine, father. Why?" He began to fiddle with the food on his plate, rolling pea like vegetables around with his fork.

"Don't question me," he sharply hissed. Seeing his wife's expression, he quickly gained composure and tried again.

"I-I-I mean, can't a father ask his son how the train ride was?" he stumbled over his words. The tension in the room was _obvious_. Draco sighed and dropped the fork suddenly,

"No, not fathers like you," he said through gritted teeth, staring at his father with a small flame of hatred. The chair slid back from him as he stormed away from the unnecessarily long table, his shoes clacking as he left.

"Lucius!" the woman with black hair gave him a sharp look.

"He's _soft_! You babied him too long!" he hissed at her.

"I _babied_ him? You mean I raised him when he was a child? You mean I wasn't skulking around with _You-know-who_?" the last part came out as a whisper.

"Narcissa!" Lucius leaned closer to her and whispered in a barely audible voice, "You and I both know that what we did was for the good of the family name. Draco would be living like that Potter boy and we, ha, we would have been dead by now."

They stared at each other and finally Narcissa, with shaking hands and teary eyes said,

"The family name? What about _my_ family Lucius? As much as I didn't agree with them, I still loved them! And you went along with the Dark Lord and _killed them_! You're worried about the family name of Malfoy? I've lost my entire family to that name." Tears began to stream down her face and makeup left black veins on the surface of her porcelain skin.

Lucius's fists clenched and his nails scraped the table, "If you can't handle being completely dedicated to blood purity, then you don't deserve the name of Mal—"

Narcissa cut him off sharply and raised her voice, "_I_ don't deserve the name of Malfoy? I'm sorry, but you begged me to marry you. I was going to marry Potter and was desperate when he ran off with that mudblood! You promised me revenge and I only get hatred and a son who doesn't even love us!" she shivered at the thought and realized what she had just said. Swiftly pivoting, and a hand over her mouth, a sob escaped. Lucius's rough and scarred hand touched her shoulder, but was quickly shrugged off as Narcissa briskly walked away and slammed the front door. Lucius was left, alone, in the empty, cold, black house which mirrored what was left of his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Diary,

It's so odd writing with regular printer paper instead of the parchment scrolls. Moving on.

I realized something on the train ride home, something that I would rather have not realized. I don't want to name any names because I'm not sure who may read this. But he's beautiful, and talented, and even though a lot of people don't realize it, he's smart. He's so funny and knows exactly how to get to people.~~~

The diary entry cut off as her father opened the door and peeked through. She jumped and threw the journal up with a jolt.

"Dad! Knock!" she said with a slight smile.

"Sorry! Sorry!" his hands were put up in a submissive way as he walked in.

"Did you need something?" sweetly, Hermione put on a smile as she tried to hide the book.

"Just seeing what's happening, you know, what's the 411, what's the bomb diggity?" her father said at an attempt to bond and relate with her.

She chuckled, "Dad, no one says any of that stuff anymore."

He laughed, "I know but it made you laugh right?"

She nodded and followed him out to watch their favorite movie together, Mary Poppins.

Throughout the whole movie, she kept thinking of the boy. Everything seemed to remind her of him, yet she had this sense that this connection was more than just friendship. It was undeniably fate. An unsettling feeling washed over Hermione. Sometimes, she could sense when someone she loved was in danger, or was sad or hurt. She looked towards her father, who was perfectly content watching his movie.

"Dad, where's Mum?" she asked. If it wasn't her father, it had to have been her mother. There was no other family she was close to.

"Erm, I think she's taking a nap in her bedroom. Why?"

"Oh, I was just curious. I know she was tired earlier and I wanted to make sure she was okay."

"Alright, sweetheart," her father replied as he began to zone back into the echoes of song about a spoonful of sugar.

_ Well, if it's not Dad and it's not Mum, who is it? According to the daily prophet, Ron is having a blast with his family. I know how I feel when Harry is being threatened, and it's not this feeling. This feeling is pain, loss, suffering…not death, no. It's worse than losing someone to death. Who am I connected to?_ Hermione questioned herself and her loved ones as she attempted to solve the mystery. Crookshanks jumped up into her lap and purred while nuzzling himself into Hermione's hand. Reflexively, she began to pet her cat's fur and remained in deep thought, still unable to figure out who it was she was sensing.

* * *

Dear Diary,

Right now, I'm absolutely disgusted with the fact that I still write in this stupid journal. I've had this since I was 11 and I swore to myself I would stop at age 12. Ha, yeah right. Anyways, I met this girl at Hogwarts. Well, I didn't necessarily meet her, per say. I already knew her, I just didn't _know_ her. I found that she is beautiful, inside and out. She has a way with words and spells and charms. She is definitely the smartest witch in our class. But there's an issue with this: she wasn't the only person I've really been able to _see_ this past year at Hogwarts. The other person is someone whom Father absolutely hates. Practically everything seems to revolve around this boy. He's famous, so why wouldn't it. But still, every time his name comes up in casual talk, I instinctively look up, waiting to see if maybe he would see me as well.

Nonetheless, I probably won't have a chance with either of them. Neither the famous boy who lived, nor the mudblood witch who is the smartest of our age.

Whatever.

-Draco

Draco shut his journal in frustration. Never had he felt so alone in his life. He thought about writing an owl to either Harry or Hermione, but realized that both of them lived with muggle families. If his father ever found out that he contacted a mudblood or a muggle raised wizard, he would disown Draco.

"Dobby!" Draco yelled out into the empty bedroom.

"Yes, master Draco," the old house elf squeaked obediently.

"Draw me a bath, I need some time alone."

"Of course, master. Anything for master Draco. Master Draco is the only Malfoy who treats Dobby with any kind of respect-"

"Not now Dobby. Please, just let me be."

The house elf nodded slightly and shined a small smile through his large green eyes towards Draco. He began to draw a bath and snapped his fingers and disapparated.

With a sigh, the young Malfoy began to undress. Whilst upon doing so, images of both Harry and Hermione alternated within his mind. Realizing what was happening, he immediately focused on something else. The sound of the water helped him focus on reality. He stepped into the bath tub and relaxed. His eyes shut and he began to drift to sleep, dreaming of a life where things were different.

Draco's eyes flipped open with the sound of a light knock on the door. He recognized the knock immediately as his father's wand, tapping. The tapping echoed through his ears as he scrambled to get dressed. His heart began to race as he wondered if his father read his journal. _No, he wouldn't have been able to open it. I locked it well enough with charms that Hermione showed to the class. He couldn't have done it_, Draco thought to himself. With a final sigh, the door swung open. Draco stood before his father, his hair still wet and ruffled. Lucius' hair was slicked back and shiny, even in the fluorescent lighting. Draco's eyes trailed down his father's robes towards a gloved hand that was holding open a book. _His_ book. It was open to the page he had just written.

"Hello, Draco," Lucius said with long pauses between each word. He knew. He knew everything and there was nothing Draco could do to escape it.

"Yes?"

"Is there, _something_ you want to tell me?" Lucius held the open journal, which seemed blank.

"N-no," Draco stuttered.

"_Aparecium_" Lucius casted the spell and Draco's words appeared. Draco felt defeated. He looked down at his feet in shame.

"I thought you would know better, Draco," Again, Lucius spoke in broken phrases, taking a pause between every few words. He shoved the journal into his son's chest:

"Dispose of this. I don't ever want to hear of this or anything related to this again. No son of mine will partake in these types of activities."

Lucius walked away, his shoes echoing through the bedroom. Tears began to well up in Draco's eyes as he muttered,

"_Evanesco._"


End file.
